


on the back of adventure

by templeofshame



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2009, 2009 Era (Phandom), M/M, abandoned hospital, but not suicidal ideation, dan briefly thinking about death as not a bad thing, urbex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeofshame/pseuds/templeofshame
Summary: Phil swears it’s safe. He knows what he’s doing; he’s done it a bunch of times before. But not with this much snow, and not with Dan’s personal set of failure modes. And safe is relative, even in the best of circumstances. All they’ve really got going for them is that they’re tall, they’re not afraid of heights, and they’ve got decent boots.or, the urbex version of the abandoned hospital.bingo square: hospital





	on the back of adventure

**Author's Note:**

> thanks, sarah.

The windows on the ground floor are boarded up.

From the outside, in the dark and the snow, that’s the only thing about the hospital that looks abandoned. There’s something unnerving about it, but maybe that’s just the cold and the fluttery nerves that come with proximity to Phil. And probably the fact that they’re leaving a path in the snow that leads directly to where they’ll be more or less breaking and entering. (“Just entering! I usually don’t break anything,” Phil had argued.)

The night is a grey sort of dark, too much light from the half-moon reflecting on snow and catching in clouds to quite reach black. The light of Phil’s torch still seems to pierce it, though. Phil knows where they’re going, but Dan just knows to follow his silhouette towards that point of light. When they get there, Phil turns, reaches out a gloved hand. The glove-glove contact is almost enough to make Dan forget that the climbing comes next.

Phil swears it’s safe. He knows what he’s doing; he’s done it a bunch of times before. But not with this much snow, and not with Dan’s personal set of failure modes. And safe is relative, even in the best of circumstances. All they’ve really got going for them is that they’re tall, they’re not afraid of heights, and they’ve got decent boots. With how wet Dan’s socks are, his boots are starting to rub, but at least they’ve got traction, and the drainpipe is surprisingly sturdy. Maybe Phil’s right, but he has this optimism thing going on that’s a little hard to grasp. Dan’s the one who’s 18, but he doesn’t believe in the teenage sense of “it won’t happen to me.” It could. Today could be the day.

Dan’s not gonna complain, though; if he goes out clambering into the second storey window of an abandoned hospital with Amazingphil looking at him like that… that’s gotta be better than any death he could hope for. Except that Dan can imagine the horror and panic on Phil’s face. And if it’s bad for Phil, then Dan does have to worry about his own death after all. His body is already worrying as his mind races to justify it. With concern for Phil, and the hope for other ways Phil could look at Dan, once they both make it out alive.

“Wait!” Phil spins around as Dan’s bending down to follow him through the empty window. Startled, Dan straightens up and he’s grateful for the fluffy hat that cushions the impact of the window frame on his head. “You have to see the view first!”

Dan blinks at Phil for a moment, not sure what to do with his too-long body when it’s curled in on itself and halfway through the window.

“Turn around.”

So Dan extricates himself from the window frame. He steadies himself with an arm, even though the roof is flat, and looks out across the hospital grounds. Everything is soft and hazy in the snow and moonlight. His eyes follow the trail they left in the snow, around the more recent hospital buildings and then the old workhouse. Beyond, there’s a row of trees Dan can only recognize by shape; the combination of snow and darkness masks the details. He can see the edges of the surrounding neighborhood, faint lights from non-abandoned windows that keep out the cold instead of letting it in, along with awkward adventurers.

A familiar spot of light appears on the snow close to where they began the climb, and it starts wiggling around.

Dan’s laugh is muffled by layers of fabric, but it ripples through him as he turns back to Phil. “Thought you wanted me to see the view? Why aren’t you out here with me?”

“I like _this_ view,” Phil says, flashing a cheeky grin. “But I wanna show you things. And I’ve never come in here alone.” Dan feels only a flash of jealousy for who else he’s brought into this abandoned building and what they’ve done there, because Phil’s words have a hint of fear. Dan rushes for the window, dropping through as soon as Phil steps back from it. By the light of Phil’s torch, he can see that they’re in a long room with a tile floor, dingy ward curtains still hanging, although most of the ceiling tiles are missing.

“No alone,” Dan says, nudging Phil with his elbow. “Show me your secret murder lair. That’s why we’re here, right?” Dan knows his mum wouldn’t find that funny, would be horrified to know where Dan’s gone with “that boy from the internet.” But of all the things Dan’s worried about, that one comes last. Mostly because he trusts Phil, but also… that would actually be the ideal death, right? The one that makes Phil happy? It’s such a ridiculous thought that Dan laughs out loud, like the weirdo he is. Laughing at his own thoughts about death, when he should be in this moment with Phil. This visit isn’t long enough to spend time in his own head.

“Think about it, though.” Dan refocuses on Phil’s words. “Loads of people must’ve died here.” Phil leads Dan out of the room, into a long corridor. He kicks aside debris and walks with purpose past peeling paint and doors half off their hinges. “Maybe not in the corridor.” He pauses for a moment, slips his glove off and tentatively reaches for Dan’s hand. Dan mirrors the gesture without hesitation. “Maybe some, though.” Phil drops his voice to a whisper. “I won’t go to the morgue.”

Dan squeezes his hand. “No morgue,” he agrees. “Just places people died before they got taken there.”

Phil lets go of Dan’s hand long enough to swat at his arm, but not much longer. If Phil needed an excuse, he’s guiding Dan around dark corners with horror-movie scratches in the walls and besides, now that they’ve each got a glove off, they need to fend off frostbite. “You have to protect me from the ghosts, then.” He shushes Dan as soon as his eyes start to roll, before he opens his mouth. “You don’t have to believe in them. We just have to keep each other safe.”

Dan wants to say something about how safety is relative, how there are hundreds of ways they could get hurt in here based on very real building code violations, instead of superstitions. But he also… wants to do that. To protect Phil and to be protected. And with Phil… safety feels like something he can believe in.

Dan doesn’t believe in the things Phil does, in ghosts or fate or soulmates. He knows how hard he’s worked to be here, is starting to understand the advantages he lucked into with timing, and his body, and convenient knowledge of music and video games. He knows the creaking sound is the wind. But he’s still creeped out by every noise and shadow, and his hand in Phil’s still feels deeply right. Scary, and right, beyond all logic, but tangled together into something that Dan’s not sure that the world could make sense without. He doesn’t have to believe in ghosts to be creeped out by abandoned hospitals, and he doesn’t have to believe in soulmates to know that he needs Phil in his life forever.

“Where are we keeping each other safe first?”

*

They’re heading for the old operating theatre, but not directly. First, there’s lots of corridor, occasionally narrowed by broken armchairs or rusty trolly beds. They stop at a rehabilitation unit carpeted with moss, desk rotting away. It’s hard for Dan to wrap his head around how this is the same hospital where they came through neat tiled halls earlier, the same hospital that apparently still sees patients in some small area in another building. There’s a “Caution Wet Floor” sign at the entrance to the rehab unit, like that’s what’s wrong with the overgrown remains of a place for recovery.

The wheelchairs are relatively intact, but not remotely modern: blush pink upholstery almost like a seat on an airplane, but on wheels. Phil falls into it without caution, rolls himself across the rough ground towards Dan with arms outstretched and a laugh on his lips. Maybe Dan’s supposed to dodge and prolong the wheelchair chase, but he’s happier to plop down in Phil’s lap and meet that laugh with his own. There’s one way this place is safe, safer than they’ll be for the rest of this visit: they’re truly, completely alone, and if Phil’s ghosts are watching, they’re keeping it to themselves.

Dan feels like he could stay here, like the moss would slowly grow over the chair, over his fluffy hat and Phil’s jacket and the places where their noses brush against each other. It doesn’t feel like decay; it feels like there’s healing left in this room yet.

But when Phil pulls away, they roll on, mossless, but with a little extra warmth. Phil leads Dan through more decaying corridors to a window overlooking a small, dark courtyard. He jumps down the short distance into the thick blanket of snow. They’re going to be frozen prunes by the time they get back to Phil’s parents’ house, but Dan doesn’t hesitate to jump out after him.

“The operating theatre’s in there.” Phil points to a door across the courtyard, anchored in place by ice but fortunately, mostly open. 

Dan wants to see it, he really does, but first he needs… a moment to ground himself in. A breath. To let himself fall on his back in the snow and just lie there. So he does, and looks at the sky.

It’s not a grey sort of dark anymore. The clouds must’ve cleared off while Dan and Phil were exploring and left stars scattered in their wake. They’re the same stars as ever, but brighter without light pollution. Somehow they feel like a revelation, out of place and perfect like the moss.

“Stars!” Dan points. He’s definitely at his most articulate. But Phil doesn’t try to pull him towards the operating theatre, doesn’t even tease him. Phil just turns off his torch, lays down next to Dan, leans over, and kisses him.

*

Phil isn’t the most subtle of people. He’s draped across Dan’s front at an angle, and their hands and arms are limited by the bulk of warmth layers, but Dan can still tell he’s doing something. Dan kind of loves how he can tell, how he knows Phil kissing well enough already to know that right now, he is slightly distracted and very much trying to pretend he isn’t. Objectively, they’re not in the best kissing conditions, cold, wet, on the ground, with Phil distracted, but there’s enough adventure buzzing through that Dan doesn’t even think to worry about it. By the time Phil seems done with whatever it is, though, the discomfort is setting in and the operating theatre is sounding like a good plan.

When Dan pulls away, Phil slides even closer, wraps his body around Dan’s torso and buries his face in Dan’s coat. For a moment, Dan can’t tell why, but then Phil’s torch flickers back on and illuminates the words he’s traced in the snow with shaky gloved fingers. 

Dan feels like his face is lighting up the courtyard as much as the torch is.

They’ve said it on Twitter, but this is different, less casual and more... vulnerable. Dan tries to pull Phil’s face back to his, but Phil burrows deeper. Maybe he’s aiming for heart, or maybe he’s hiding, but it just makes a giggle bubble up in Dan. Even there on the cold, hard ground, he feels… light.

“Hey! I’m meant to see your face!” Dan tries to roll onto his side to shake Phil off. What is Phil hiding from? Dan doesn’t want him to hide from feeling light, and safe, and loved. “I’m meant to say I love you to your face. And then you’re meant to show me an abandoned operating theatre.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](https://templeofshame.tumblr.com/post/188493148315/on-the-back-of-adventure-g-2k-phil-swears-its)


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